FUGITIVES: ARMED AND DANGEROUS — An A.I. Capone Book Excerpt
By Paul Ponce
South Dakota, 6:29 a.m.
Sunrise bathed the grassy plains in a peaceful glow.
That is, until five helos in a perfect V formation stormed in. Four Black Hawks and a nimble Eurocopter AS350 AStar, tearing the calm to shreds with noise, dust, and rotor wash.
Inside the AStar, Special Agent in Charge Mina Park watched the bodies and smoldering wreckage swell into view beneath her.
Nobody had said a damn thing about a battlefield.
Park scanned the carnage for the two fugitives she’d come to arrest. Assuming they were still breathing.
Maybe this whole thing was a setup.
However this ended, she’d own it.
The Black Hawks hovered low as the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team spilled out, boots hitting dirt, M4s sweeping the field. Leading the assault element was Special Agent Tom Garrison, a former Marine Raider who’d seen more than his share of booby traps.
Park ran the operation. Garrison handled the sharp end.
His operators fanned out, sealing every escape route. Behind them, sirens howled as armored trucks skidded to a stop, unloading more agents like they were taking down the Medellín Cartel all over again.
As the rotor wash thinned, Park spotted them just beyond a low ridge.
“FBI! Drop your weapons!”
Park’s voice rang out through a megaphone as the AStar touched down. She stepped onto the grass in a tactical vest and Ray-Bans, sidearm ready.
Surrounded, bruised, and bloodied, Cel and Drake stood their ground. Cel held the rugged Arclight case in one hand, her other hand tightening around the AK as her eyes flicked to Drake.
“Don’t even think about it,” Drake muttered, his voice low and firm. “Only weapon now is between our ears.”
Cel scowled but let the rifle drop to the grass. Drake followed, setting his sidearm down with deliberate care.
Garrison motioned toward the case. “That too.”
Cel’s fingers tightened around the handle.
“It’s not a weapon.”
“Put it down.”
She reluctantly lowered it beside the AK, handling it with considerably more care.
Only then did four of Garrison’s operators move in, patting them down and stripping away knives, vests, and ammo while the rest of the element kept their weapons trained.
Garrison motioned toward the Arclight case.
“What’s in there?” Park asked.
Cel, face streaked with dirt and blood, her breaths shallow from cracked ribs, shot her a venomous glare. “None of your damn business.”
Garrison gave the case a quick once-over, then waved over the K-9 handler. The dog moved in to sweep it for explosives.
“I can crack it open once it’s clear.”
Park held up a hand. “Not yet.” She signaled to the nearby paramedics.
The Bureau’s OpMed team moved in like a pit crew. One ripped open Drake’s sleeve and pressed a field dressing against the bullet wound still oozing blood. The veteran soldier barely flinched, his jaw set. Another checked Cel’s breathing, running careful fingers along her battered ribs. She winced at every touch.
Neither said a word, their eyes locked on Park.
“Well, well—what have we got here?” hissed a voice, slick with venom and familiarity.
Grimshaw stumbled into view, his hands somehow unbound, his once-tailored suit now a ragged mess, dirt and blood streaking his face. And yet, somehow, he still carried that maddening air of refinement, like he’d just walked off the set of some high-society crime drama.
The operators trained their weapons on him, but he waved them off with shaky arrogance.
The guns didn’t move.
Park turned to Garrison, her expression pure disbelief.
He didn’t so much as glance her way, his M4 steady on Grimshaw.
“Agent Park. Nice of you to drop by,” Grimshaw snarled, jabbing a trembling finger at Cel, Drake, and the dead sicarios. “Feast your eyes—some of the most vicious killers south of the border, brought in by these two.”
Cel and Drake exchanged a glance that practically screamed, Seriously?
“Director Gardner’s orders were clear,” Grimshaw pressed, his voice dripping with smug authority. “Arrest them. Now.”
Park stepped closer, her stare drilling into him. “I don’t take orders from you.”
“You sure about that?” Grimshaw shot back, his smirk a dagger.
That’s one piece of the story.
Find out how Cel and Drake landed in the FBI’s crosshairs in A.I. Capone: The Digital Don.
Not ready to enter the crossfire? Explore the A.I. Capone universe.
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